What Is A Son Without His Father?
by Mimiw
Summary: Sort of a sequel to "What Is A Father Without His Son?". Read and Review please.


"Amin delotha sina, Galion." (I hate this, Galion.)

"I'm afraid the weather will not be looking up until tomorrow, Ernilen." (My prince)

Legolas turned his gaze forlornly back to the trees. "Is Ada doing anything?" he asked, careful not to show his hope. But knowing how this beloved elf never missed a thing in his life, he knew that he saw it anyway. "I'm afraid we cannot perform any stunt to pull your Adar out of his duties this time." Galion chuckled as the prince unconsciously pouted.

Heavy rain had taken its darkness over the Greatness of Eryn Lasgalen that day; and not a single soul dared to march-out and play. Why this is, the prince wonders and often ponders about it whenever days such as passes by. "I'm afraid the kingdom is far too scarred for any simple merriment this early, Tithen Las." (Little Leaf) Galion spoke, startling the young elf. "H… Have I spoken my thoughts aloud?" he asked cheeks tingeing pink. "It's nothing that I have not experienced with your father yet, Ernilen." The butler assured. Legolas nodded a bit unsure. "Hannon lle." (Thank you.) He whispered.

As thousands of needles dropped from the sky to the muddied ground of their enchanting realm, a sad smile crept upon Legolas' lips; he announced Galion's dismissal from his room. "Will you be fine on your own, Ernilen?" Galion asked dutifully. A pause ensued when glittering blue eyes dazed. The elder elf shifted, slightly alarmed and concerned. "I will be fine." Legolas turns his back to Galion who schooled his expression to one of genuine affection. With a bow, the butler left the prince's chamber with a thought of how to free the king from the council.

"Lasta la sen lindua, Adar." (Listen to them sing, father.)

* * *

Legolas woke with a start; still uncomprehending to what had happened—until it dawned upon him that he had fallen asleep in the window sill from listening to the rain. "_Lasta la sen lindua, Adar." _He smiled, recalling a time when he was but a wee elfling. He used to go to his father after waking upon rainy mornings; slip to his bed and embraced him tightly, waiting for the coming thunder and lightning that he once knew as frightening. There were times then that his father was not too tired to ignore the extra lump that appeared beside him, and he would ask the little elf what was wrong. "I do not like the rain, Ada." Little Greenleaf would tell him then. A low melody of gentle laughter would fill the room with warmth no fire could ever bring; whilst the king turns and pulls his son to him. "What ever made you not like it, tithen Las?" Thranduil would pretend not to know. "The roars and flashes." A quiet answer—an honest answer would reach his pointy ears. "Ah—" his father would begin. "Tell me, Legolas—is that all you hear?" big blue eyes would look up to those green which beheld so much a love for one to bear. "Ion-nin, listen again." The king would close his eyes, peeking only to see if the little one followed his actions and would always not be disappointed with what he would see. Legolas, in complete trust with his father, would have his eyes closed as well. "A drop of water doesn't really drop, you see?" he whispers lovingly to his elfling. "It strums the invisible strings in the air as its real objective is to make a beat flow by hitting the drums that awaits it on the ground. The ones on the trees found the bells, I see—do you hear them, Ion-nin?"

There would be a shift from between his arms as the little elf strains his tiny ears. "It sounds like bells!" Legolas would beam as King Thranduil would stroke his little golden head. "They sound lovely, don't they?", "Lasta la sen lindua, Ion-nin." (Listen to them sing, my son.)

Legolas smiled fondly at the memory as he leaned back to the window sill. After a few more moments of listening, Eryn Lasgalen's young prince fell into another peaceful slumber; eyes wide-open and dazed as he was over-came with Elven dreams.

* * *

"You say he's not feeling well?" King Thranduil ringed the edge of his robe's sleeves as he quickly followed Galion through the palace corridors. "I do not know exactly, Aran-nin, but he was very pale this morning and he was a bit faint." The butler sighed, not entirely lying. "You should've led him to a healer! It's already late noon! What if he has become ill!? Ai, Galion, pray that he hasn't or else I'll have you fed to the spiders!" The King brushed-pass his butler—who had drained in color upon comprehension of the king's words. "I'm praying, Aran-nin. I'm praying!" Galion half-spluttered as he hurried his steps keeping in pace with his liege.

When they got to the Prince's private chambers the King froze in the doorway, in turn Galion who was in deep-thought, ran straight into the King's broad back. "Amin hiraetha, Aran-nin!" (I am sorry, My King!) He spoke nervously. "He had fallen asleep." King Thranduil said in disbelief, ignoring Galion for a moment. He strode silently to where his son slept in peace.

"He is where I had left him." Galion spoke as he joined his King, gaping slightly in amusement. The King smiled at Galion. "Thank you for getting me to him. He never did like the rain, you see. I used to take him with me everywhere I go when times such as this befell us." The butler bowed humbly and said: "Amin naa lle nai, Aran-nin. Amin naa tualle." (I am yours to command, my king. I am your servant.) The butler recited his vow as he would always after he had done service for the King in the Court of Council. The king laughed, making Galion chance a glance at him. "Bau, lle naa mello'amin. Hannon lle, Galion." (No, you are my friend. Thank you.) With another bow of respect, the butler walked away from the chambers with a bright smile opposing the weather fully.

King Thranduil returned his gentle gaze to his beloved son. "Ai, Ion-nin—" he chided with a slight chuckle. "—one should not fall asleep in the window, for even if you are a woodland elf, you may still fall and hurt yourself." Reaching out to his slumbering child, he wrapped an arm around Legolas' shoulder and another under his knees; pulling him close as he lifted him from the window. "Ai, Elbereth! What have they been feeding you, Legolas!?" He whispered in mirth as he led his son's body to the wide bed in the center of the room. He laid him down gently on the soft silk beddings as not to wake him. Pulling back after he deemed it comfortable enough for his child, his gaze fell upon Legolas' face. The room's atmosphere became serene once more as the father traced his son's face. "You look more like your Naneth." (mother.) he whispered sadly. "Ada…" Thranduil turned to see his son's eyes, expecting him to have woken from the caress, only to find him still deep in sleep. "Yes, little Greenleaf?" he whispered back with one of his genuine smiles. "Amin caela lasta la sen lindua… Hannon lle, Ada… Amin mela lle…" (I have listened to them sing… Thank you, Dad… I love you…)

Memories of a younger version of his Little Leaf came to him almost immediately. He laughed lightly filling the room with it's warmth as he kissed his son's brow. "I'm glad you no longer dislike them, Greenleaf. Est mae, Tithen Pen." (Rest well, little one.) As he stood up and walked towards the door, a voice, like a lone violin sounded from the bed. Smiling proudly, he nodded not turning to the voice. Speaking his temporary goodbye, he walked-out and closed the door.

"_Amin khiluva lle a'gurtha ar'thar, Aran-nin, Adar-nin_." (I will follow you to death and beyond, My King, My Father.)

"_L'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin l'anor, Ion-nin. Lanta Kaima."_ (The bones of our foes will gleam under the sun, my son. Sleep.)

* * *

(A/N): This story follows my first work "What Is A Father Without His Son". It can be read separately. This story is written for "french-charlotte", whom I thank for the inspiring review from my first fic.


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